


The Elf and the Archer

by iloveitblue



Series: Prompts [247]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Gen, i dont even know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:55:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Phil is an elf and he helps Clint make arrows.</p><p>Yep, you read that right. Idek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elf and the Archer

There was once an  ~~assassin~~  archer who worked very hard and was very honest: but he still could not earn enough to live upon, after all, what work could a simple archer do. The archer also created his arrows because he had none to buy new arrows. He only always had just enough to buy himself the piece of wood from which he crafted his arrows.

One night, he cut up the pieces of wood into shafts that only needed the fletch and the head to be ready. He meant to rise early in the morning to finish his work, so he went peaceably to bed, left all his cares wherever they may lie, and soon fell asleep.

In the morning, he sat himself down to work; when to his great wonder, there stood on the table, a quiver full of newly made arrows. The archer knew not what to say or think at such an odd thing happening, he was quite sure he wasn’t drunk the night before. He looked at the workmanship; there was not one false carving in the whole job; all was so neat and true, that every arrow was quite a masterpiece.

The same day a job came in, and that night the archer did the job so flawlessly with his new arrows that the customer willingly paid a price higher than usual for them; and the poor archer, with the money, bought more pieces of wood, enough to make two quivers full. In the evening the archer cut up all the pieces necessary once more, adding more complicated looking arrows than his usual ones, that he might get up and begin betimes next day; but he was saved all the trouble, for when he got up in the morning the work was done ready to his hand. Soon came in more  ~~assassination~~  jobs, which paid him handsomely for his services, so that he bought wood enough for more arrows. He cut out the work again overnight and found it done in the morning, as before; and so it went on for some time: what was got ready in the evening was always done by daybreak, and the good archer soon became thriving and well off.

One evening, about Christmas-time, as he and his apprentice were sitting over the fire chatting together, he said to her, “Gosh, I love arrows.” His apprentice rolled her eyes at him, and he continued, “I should like to sit up tonight, that we may see who it is that comes and does my work for me. 

The apprentice looked at him, incredulous. “Why are you talking like that?” She asked him.

So they left a light burning, and hid themselves in a corner of the room, behind a curtain that was hung up there, and watched what would happen. 

As soon as it was midnight, there came in a little elf, dressed from head to toe in a miniature looking potato sack. The apprentice’ jaw dropped and asked, “Am I high? I think I’m high. Did you sneak something into my food, Clint?”

The elf sat itself on the archer’s workbench, took up all the work that was cut out, and began to ply his little fingers, stitching and rapping and tapping away at such a rate, that the archer was all wonder, and could not take his eyes off the elf. And on they went, till the job was quite done, and the arrows stood ready for use upon the table. This was long before daybreak; and then he bustled away as quick as lightning.

The next day the apprentice said to the archer. “You saw that right? I’m not going crazy? There was a little dude making your arrows. I didn’t imagine that, right? Fuck, I’m going crazy. I  _am_  going crazy, aren’t I? You’re going to have to take me to an asylum or something. A straitjacket. Oh God.”

But the archer was not listening. He was thinking about the little elf, and what he could do for the tiny thing. He is quite sorry to see him run about as he did; and indeed it is not very decent, for he had nothing upon his back aside from the potato sack upon his back to keep the cold off. “I’ll tell you what, You will make him a shirt, and a coat and waistcoat, and a pair of pantaloons into the bargain; and I do make him a little pair of shoes.”

The apprentice turned to him like the archer was crazy and sputtered. “Okay. 1.) I don’t know how to sew. 2.) Even if I did, I don’t know his size. 3.) You don’t know how to create shoes. 4.) He’s a fucking elf. 5.) What is with your speech pattern?!” She asked him, hysterically now.

Instead, they bought doll clothes; and one evening, when all the things were ready, they laid them on the table, instead of the work that the archer used to cut out, and then went and hid themselves, to watch what the little elf would do.

About midnight in the elf came, dancing and skipping, hopped around the room, and then went to sit down to his work as usual; but when he saw the clothes lying for him, he laughed and chuckled, and seemed mightily delighted. 

He took a pen, too big for him, surely, and a piece of paper, and started scribbling. He took off the potato sack and patted down the fine suit underneath before running off. 

The archer and the apprentice came to the table, their present untouched, and read the note. 

‘ _I appreciate the sentiment. But this is a tad bit too big for me, and the reflective fabric is impractical for when I need not be spotted. -Phil Coulson.’_

“Okay, I’m  not even going to comment on this. I’m out. Have fun going crazy.” Th apprentice declared, slinging her bag around her and going out the door.

The good archer saw the elf no more; but everything went well with him from that time forward, as well as assassins lived, that is.

**Author's Note:**

> The story is by the Brothers Grimm. Completely not original. I just played with it a bit to fit the prompt. So, totally theirs. Not mine. Credit for them. Brothers Grimm hoorah! 


End file.
